


Happy Birthday to You, You Live in a Zoo

by smolmerci



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (are you russian? tell me your ways), (does russia even have a drinking age?), (mostly a running gag about viktor and yuuri having hickeys), (side note: yes apparently the drinking age is 18 in russia WHO WOULD HAVE THUNK), (yurio has a little vodka for his birthday but nothing bad happens), GRATUITOUS TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Underage Drinking, pov switching, this is mostly about how much everyone cares about yurio, viktor with a k because i do what i want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 01:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10060787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolmerci/pseuds/smolmerci
Summary: Yurio assumes everyone has forgotten his sixteenth birthday. (Really, it was just Viktor.)Everybody else gets ready to surprise him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thequeerkhaleesi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequeerkhaleesi/gifts).



> in case you missed the notes, the underage drinking is just yurio having a little vodka to celebrate his birthday, and nothing bad or even remotely embarrassing happens to him because of it. the implied sexual content is that viktor and yuuri probably get it on between the first POV jump and the second, but nothing happens onscreen. also hickey jokes.
> 
> much thanks to the lovely @thequeerkhaleesi for giving me feedback and encouragement! (also for getting me into this fandom in the first place!) ;) thanks bro.

“ _Yuuuuuu-_ ri.”

A muffled groan is his only response, but the arms clinging to his waist tighten slightly. Slowly, Viktor runs his hand through Yuuri’s hair, which gets him a small noise of approval. Yuuri is mostly noises when he wakes up—like Viktor is when he’s trying to drag Yuuri to bed at some ungodly hour of the night. Sharing a room was an adjustment.

 _Worth it_ , Viktor thinks, as he gently pries himself from Yuuri’s clutches to throw open the curtains. Yuuri, in this moment, with sunlight abruptly invading the room— because his fiancé needs _attention_ — is perhaps less charitable. He groans, loudly, and Viktor tries not to laugh. “Viktor,” Yuuri manages, sounding like it would be followed up with _why_ if he could form that many words this early in the morning.

“It’s a beautiful day, with my beautiful fiancé, and we should enjoy it,” Viktor says sunnily, launching himself back into bed to wrap himself around Yuuri, who immediately melts in his arms. “We could go get breakfast somewhere nice, since we don’t have to go to the rink today. Or we could get breakfast and then go to the rink with something for Yurio, he’s always hungry these days, we should make sure he’s eating enough—oh,” he pauses, because Yuuri has burrowed himself even closer and just pressed the most delicate of kisses to Viktor’s collarbone. He might be blushing a little.

“I’m listening,” Yuuri murmurs, still sleepy, before pressing another kiss to Viktor’s neck. “Go ahead, I like hearing you talk, Vitya.” Yuuri meets his eyes for the first time that day, all soft and warm and gently amused, and Viktor can’t help but beam back.

“Mmm, but you’re distracting me,” he replies, eyes shining as Yuuri grins against his jawline and presses another kiss there anyway.

“Oh no.” Yuuri doesn’t even try to sound sorry. He’s moved up to Viktor’s cheek, which is now slightly rosy.

“ _Моя любовь_ ,” Viktor says, turning his face for a quick kiss—oh, no, a long one. A long, slow, _good_ kiss, the kind that’s lazily promising pleasure, should he find himself in the mood. Dazed, Viktor pulls away, trying to remember what he was going to say. He does, if only because his point is clearer than ever. “It seems to me that someone would rather not get breakfast, or visit—”

“Please stop talking about Yurio,” Yuuri demands, sliding one hand up Viktor’s bare torso to rest over the middle of his chest. “But you’re right,” he adds, this time in Viktor’s ear and soft as a feather. “I’d rather stay in bed for the morning, Vitya.”

When Yuuri first figured out how much Viktor liked to be called Vitya, he would say it with emphasis—a little smug, aware that Viktor’s heart was racing and his ears felt pink and something hot and gooey was blooming in his chest. Now, though, it’s become natural, and Viktor likes that even more—likes that the most beautiful man in the world, who is in _his_ bed, can press up against him and call him _Vitya_ and ask for kisses every single morning for the rest of their lives, easy as breathing.

“Anything for you, _Солнышко моё_.” 

***

Lilia is halfway through a dance lesson with Yuri Plisetsky, the afternoon sunlight gently spilling over the otherwise empty room, when Viktor bursts through the doors. He looks _entirely_ too happy, and is wearing a turtleneck, which is telling. Yuuri Katsuki is trails hesitantly behind, _also_ wearing a turtleneck, and clutching a bag from a nearby café. He always reverts to his tentative, anxious self in Lilia’s studio, as if he’s not sure he’s allowed to be in her space, despite the fact that he is undoubtedly Lilia’s favourite student. She even smiles when he greets her, bowing his head slightly, and slyly tells him that he looks _well-rested_.

Plisetsky is clearly about to unleash a scowl and maybe a good roar when he catches Lilia’s eye, so instead he lifts his chin and looks down his nose at them.

“Could you losers be any more obvious?” Yuri says icily, narrowing his eyes. “Also, that better be for me, Katsudon, because—”

“We’re sorry for not making it here earlier, Yurio,” Yuuri interrupts, with a gentle smile. “But we did want to make sure you ate, so we got you some blini.”

Yuri sniffs, but pulls away from the barre to take the bag. As he’s about to open it, Lilia clears her throat.

“Thank you,” he adds, as venomously as possible, but Viktor sends him a knowing smile over his coffee. Lilia thinks it unwise to be drinking coffee at four in the afternoon, but she is at least grateful that he is silent for once.

“You’re welcome. Text when you’re done if you want to come to dinner, okay?” With that, and a quick goodbye to Lilia, they leave, at which point Yuri devours the blini, pausing only to acknowledge Lilia’s sigh by offering her one. She accepts.

“Do you think,” He mumbles, mouth still half-full of blini, “they forgot?”

“Forgot what?” Lilia asks, not unkindly.

“Never mind!” Yuri splutters, barely managing to keep the last bits of blini in his mouth, much to Lilia’s disgust. “Anyway, are we done yet?”

“You should have asked before eating,” Lilia points out, eyebrows arched imperiously. “But I suppose we’ve done enough for today. See Yakov before leaving the rink.”

As Yurio exits the studio, Lilia pulls her phone from her pocket and dials. “I couldn’t help but notice that you two had a late start to the day. I hope you haven’t forgotten any _important commitments_ ,” she says, voice coiled like the spring of a mousetrap.

Viktor swears on the other end of the line, but the phone is quickly taken from him.

“Don’t worry! I remembered. Otabek decided to rent a bike, so he’ll be getting there on his own, and Nikolai is already at the apartment with Mila and Georgi setting up decorations,” Yuuri says. _Thank heavens one of them has a decent head on his shoulders._ Lilia’s tempted to start praying again simply to give thanks for Vitya’s dumb luck, because only the most merciful of gods would arrange for Yuuri Katsuki to be both generally responsible and madly in love with a hot mess.

“And the cake?”

“We’re picking it up now.”

“Oh, we’re picking up birthday cake?” Viktor asks, clearly surprised.

“What did you think we were doing, Vitya?”

“I thought you just wanted cake?”

“Vitya, _you_ said I needed to cut down on sweets.”

“You bought my silence earlier.”

“Enough!” Lilia interjects, clearly exasperated. “Yuri is with Yakov. He’s bad at stalling without looking suspicious, so we only have until the end of his practice notes until Yuri is on his way.”

“He thinks he’s coming to dinner with us,” Yuuri reminded her. “That means he’ll head home for a shower and text when he needs to know what to wear. Plenty of time.” Lilia hums thoughtfully and begins gathering her things to leave, phone pressed to her shoulder with a small smile as Yuuri continues to walk her through the plan.

“I’m so excited!” Vitya exclaims, in the background. “I love this kind of thing. I can’t believe I forgot.”

***

Yakov is embarrassed.

Just looking at the damn thing makes him wonder if Yuri will laugh at him. _Old man, who are you trying to fool? Thinking you know what the kids like these days. Should have just bought me a gift card for music. Or money in an envelope and a lecture about how ISU drug testing is random._

But he saw it, and he couldn’t help thinking about Yuratchka, and how all his hoodies are starting to get too short for him and he shivers around the rink. Viktor, too, went through a phase like that—too stubborn to admit his own growth spurt, clear as day, until someone had gently reminded him that his fashionable sponsors would prefer that he wear clothes tailored to his actual size. Yurio’s sponsors don’t really care if he’s scruffy, because that’s his _look_. So it’s just Yakov holding a big _leather jacket_ with a stupid tiger on the back that he thinks only Yuri would love, if Yuri loves it, and feeling a little annoyed that his ridiculous boys won’t ever stop making him worry about how cold they are.

Not that he really has to worry about Vitya anymore, now that he’s clinging to Katsuki at every available opportunity, but still. Yuratchka worries him, with his angry-cat attitude. And to a certain extent, Vitya himself makes him worry about Yurio—if Vitya was isolated, growing up, and it led to him flying across the globe to throw himself at a rival skater he’d only met _twice_ , well, Yurio isn’t _less_ isolated, and has already flown across the globe without permission. And Vitya is happy, now, at twenty-eight. Yakov wonders if Yurio could be happier.

He’d seemed upset earlier, clearly put out that no one had wished him a happy birthday and too proud to admit it. Yakov had barely restrained himself from caving and telling him that no one had forgotten, but Lilia threatened him with all kinds of horrible punishment if he ruined the surprise, so he settled for yelling: Yuri needed to work on his spins, his free leg had been sloppy on the last run-through, he _saw_ the time he replaced his triple with a quad and he should absolutely not be doing that while his body is changing so much, et cetera. Yuri had just sighed and nodded and slammed the door on his way out, so Yakov was getting ready to leave.

He’s just finished wrapping the damn jacket and stuffing a few American bills into an envelope when his phone rings. Vitya’s smiling face winks up at him from the screen, and he answers with a gruff “What?”

“The tiger has escaped his cage! Yakov, where are you? He’ll be here in twenty minutes, and do you have Otabek’s number? Oh, you have Otabek’s—why didn’t you _say_ so, Yuuri, can you call him—”  
  
“I’m on my way,” Yakov says loudly, and hangs up.

***

“Hello?”

“Otabek! Hi! Are you almost here?” Katsuki sounds relieved. He’d called twice while Otabek was driving.

“I’m outside your apartment. Where should I park?” Nikiforov is clearly _loaded_ , because this place is gated and nice-looking, if you like the modern sort of thing. Personally, Otabek finds it a little lifeless, but Nikiforov seems like the type who’d be into the clean lines, or would have been, once. Easy to leave behind, if you’ve got a mind to abandon everything. It might be stranger now.

Katsuki gives him directions to the right entrance, where Otabek hands his phone over to a uniformed grump. The guy seems a little skeptical that a leather-clad undercut-sporting nineteen-year-old with a motorcycle should be anywhere near the building. He can hear Viktor rattling off—definitely something about figure skating, and something else that sounds very firm—and then he’s got his phone back and can park.

As he slips his phone back into his pocket, he tries to ignore the unopened message icon. Yuri had texted him earlier, and he’s not sure what it will say, so he’s not going to open anything until after Yuri is thoroughly surprised by his birthday party. Otabek is the new guy, the new friend—he’s not about to ruin the surprise party and be _that_ guy, but it still feels wrong to avoid his best friend on his birthday, even if it’s for a good cause.

He makes it up to Nikiforov’s apartment without incident and is about to knock when the door opens.

“Hello, Otabek! You look nice,” Viktor says excitedly, pulling him in without further ado. “We’re mostly set up, but we can’t figure out where everyone should hide. Yakov’s knees are bothering him, so he can’t go behind the couch, and Lilia doesn’t want to get dirty, even though the floor is _clearly_ well cleaned—”

Yuuri emerges around a corner—from what must be the kitchen area— looking exasperated and slightly red-faced. He’s also wearing a scarf indoors, which seems like an odd choice given how warm it is. “Okay, well, I need to be able to answer the door, because there’s no reason for any of you to be here and it’ll ruin the surprise! Mila, Georgi, _you_ go behind the couch. Vitya, you can get behind the counter.”

“Why don’t Mr. Feltsman and Ms. Baranovskaya hide in another room with Mr. Plisetsky, and I can hide with Viktor?” Otabek suggests, feeling bad for the only other reasonable person in this apartment. Well, what _appears_ to be the only other reasonable person—according to Yuri’s multiple rants, Katsuki has his own weird streak. Or streaks.

Yuuri nods eagerly. “Yes! Perfect. Lilia, Yakov, Mr. Plisetski, either hide in the bathroom or hide in our bedroom, I _really don’t_ mind, just pick something. Okay, everyone get into position, and _be quiet_.”

Mila gives Otabek a friendly pat on the back as she dives behind the couch, quickly followed by Georgi, who looks uncharacteristically amused. Maybe it’s just because he’s not performing; the lack of make-up is also a startling difference. Yakov and Lilia move out of sight, presumably into the bedroom, but do not close the door, and Nikolai Plisetsky ducks into the bathroom. Viktor grins, radiating pure joy as Yuuri smiles at him and fondly nudges him towards the counter. It’s a little heartwarming, despite Yuri’s constant whining about them.

Someone knocks on the door.

***

Yurio is not in the mood for supper, but he’s also _angry_ , so he is indeed outside the door. He spent the whole bus ride to Viktor’s apartment imagining different ways to segue into righteous fury at his shitty friends for forgetting his sixteenth birthday. He even brought piroshky, because he wants them to feel extra bad that he cooked for them _on his sixteenth birthday, which they forgot._ He can’t wait to see Katsudon’s ridiculous soft face crumple apologetically, big doe eyes shining with regret. Yuri also hopes that Viktor will freeze up like he always does when someone calls him out on being a forgetful piece of crap, and _they’ll be sorry_. He can’t believe them, or Otabek, who apparently hasn’t even bothered to look at his damn phone today, because everyone apparently has much better things to think about than Senior Men’s Grand Prix Final Winner Yuri Plisetsky’s sixteenth birthday, _which they forgot_ —

Katsudon opens the door with a weird smile on his face. “Yurio! Come in,” he says, grabbing the piroshky without so much as a thank you. Yurio is about to explode with anger when he realizes all the lights are off and Viktor is apparently not home.

“Wait, what—”

“SURPRISE!” Out of nowhere, he’s tackled by Mila, who immediately lifts him into the air as he lets out a bewildered yell. Viktor is waving his arms from behind the counter, and next to him is Otabek, with the biggest smile Yuri’s ever seen on his face, and suddenly everything clicks. Yuri blinks, and his face goes slightly red as he registers all the people smiling up at him. Even Grandpa is there, although he moves to sit down right away with an apologetic gesture towards his back.

“Mila, let the boy down, we have presents to give him,” Yakov says firmly, and she does. Suddenly, it’s a group hug, with Georgi wishing him a happy birthday in the floweriest purple prose imaginable as Viktor squeezes the life out of him.

“We didn’t forget, we just wanted to surprise you,” Katsudon says quietly, ruffling Yuri’s hair. “How could we forget your sixteenth birthday?” He pauses, as if he’s about to say something else, but Viktor huffs and squeezes them both more tightly. The moment passes.

When he’s released, Otabek is there, arms open, and Yuri smiles as he moves forward into the hug. “You asshole,” he says fondly. “You could have at least answered one text. I can’t believe you’re here!”

Otabek laughs. “I didn’t want to ruin your surprise. I’ll be here for about a week, actually. Pulled some strings.”

Yuri feels a little overwhelmed by the sudden change of mood, and so he makes his way over to sit by his Grandpa, who pats him on the shoulder affectionately and wishes him a happy birthday before telling him he should eat something. Happily, Yuri complies, grabbing a fistful of chips from the bowl on the table. Someone’s put music on already, and Mila slides one of those ridiculous cone hats onto his head before dumping a bunch of presents in front of him. Otabek sets his down more carefully, as do Yakov and Lilia.

After all the waiting he had to do today, Yuri feels quite comfortable making everyone else wait for his chips to be done before opening his presents, much to Mila and Viktor’s dismay. For someone who basically brushes off his birthday every year, Viktor sure seems excited about Yuri’s, which is kind of stupid, but also nice.

“Open ours first!” Viktor yells, but Yuri just rolls his eyes and grabs Otabek’s instead. It’s a perfect cube, but not heavy enough to be something as large as the box. Otabek’s smile widens as he rips open the box.

“A helmet? But do you even have your bike?” Yurio asks, eyes glittering anyway once he sees that it’s leopard print. “ _Nice_.”

“He tried to convince me to give you motorcycle lessons as a present,” Yakov growls, and Otabek has the decency to look slightly sheepish. “I told him that I’d rather not end your career at sixteen, even if he’s foolish enough to risk his.”

“Whoops,” Mila says, handing over her suspiciously light present with a wink. “Guess I fucked up!”

“Thanks, hag,” he laughs, confirming that she has indeed given him motorcycle lessons as a birthday gift. Trust Mila to give Yakov another reason to lose hair at a birthday party.

Viktor is now practically vibrating with eagerness, so Yuri decides to put him out of his misery and takes his box from the pile. When he opens it, there’s a piece of paper and a bunch of frames. They turn out to contain photos: him and Katsudon in dance class, him and Viktor walking Makkachin, him and the Katsuki and Nishigori families in Hasetsu, him and Otabek making peace signs in Barcelona, him and his rinkmates at practice—

“Where am I even going to put all these, you saps?” He grumbles fondly, to avoid showing that he’s a little bit touched. His cheeks feel hot. Katsudon shrugs, looking pleased anyway, and Yuri fishes out the piece of paper. “Cooking classes?”

“You seem to like it, and you’re pretty good, so why not learn some of the harder stuff properly? Anyway, you should have things in your life that don’t revolve around figure skating,” Viktor replies, which is probably fair.

“Thanks,” he says, only to have to pry them off him when they go in for _another_ hug.

Yakov gives him an unbelievably cool jacket and some cash, red-faced and tense, and Yuri asks him three times who actually picked it out for him. He still doesn’t buy that it was Yakov.

Georgi gives him books, the serious kind—he’s an arts student, after all—that he claims are necessary to “developing a deep understanding of the human soul” that “must be channelled in every performance,” which is kind of sweet, in a Georgi kind of way. Lilia gives him a gift certificate to a snooty menswear place and promises to take him as soon as his growth spurt is over, because she’s nothing if not relentlessly practical. His grandfather gives him a hug, and piroshky, and promises that on his next weekend off they can spend two days in the countryside, away from everything.

He does Lilia proud and remembers to thank everyone, and chews his cake with his mouth shut, and they have a great time. Vitya and Georgi get too drunk and end up babbling to each other about love in the corner of the living room, with a happily tipsy Katsudon wedged between them closing his eyes and getting his hair stroked. His scarf falls off a little, which is just as disgusting as Yuri thought it would be. He’s going to call Vitya _the count_ instead of _baldy_ if this keeps up. Or maybe Vlad. He giggles.

“You’ve been at the vodka,” Otabek accuses, prodding Yuri’s nose with one finger.

“It’s my _birthday_ ,” Yuri whines, grinning. “Also, my dumb best friend didn’t text me back all day. So now I have to drink, like Vlad does.”

Otabek just laughs, and the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly. Yuri’s about to say something when Mila appears, sprawling herself over their laps as if it’s the most natural shit in the world, and sighs happily.

“Sara texted me.”

“When did all my friends get so gay,” Yuri wonders, flushed red as he tries to disguise a hiccup as anything but. He fails.

“Awww! Yurio, you called us your friends,” Mila exclaims, reaching over to pinch his cheek. Clearly, she has also found the vodka. “We love you, little kitten, you know that, right? Our little ice fairy,” She gushes, sitting up to wrap her arms around him. Otabek is desperately struggling with the urge to laugh.

Yurio, on any other day, would act scandalized and push her away. But today is his birthday, and fine—he’s a little tipsy. So, instead, in a moment that Viktor will forever regret missing, he presses a kiss to Mila’s temple and hugs back.

“I love you too. All of you,” he clarifies, before smiling wickedly. “But don’t tell Vitya.”

It’s the best birthday he’s ever had, so far.

**Author's Note:**

> for those who haven't seen vitya's terms of endearment in cyrillic a bajillion times before, he's calling yuuri "my love" and "my sunshine"! i think so, anyway. the site i got the translation from might have been a tutorial on how to talk to mail order brides? google is weird.
> 
> by the way, if you have any feedback, it'd be highly appreciated! this is my first time publishing fic online in about ten years. also, if you want to come yell about yoi with me, i'm smol-merci on tumblr! 
> 
> please let me know if you think i should add/change a tag or anything, this is also my first time submitting to ao3!
> 
> last note: i just wanna mention that if viktor seems a little ridiculous and forgetful, i's because 1- it's actually lilia and yurio thinking of him that way, not yakov or otabek 2- as someone who doesn't seem to attach much importance to birthdays, i didn't think it would be much of a stretch for him to forget them easily, especially given his canonical tendency to forget things. besides, as someone who seems to...not have a lot of people in is life, he might not have a lot of practice, which is also why he's so excited. i feel like he's just learning to let loose and love people. yuuri has a bigger family, and phichit, and i feel like he'd be better at keeping track of that sort of thing. 
> 
> also, i couldn't find a way to work it in, but yuuko and the katsukis definitely send yurio birthday care packages. chris sends him a message that his gift is that he can call him to collect vitya for a weekend if he wants some peace and quiet. haven't figured out phichit yet, but feel free to discuss! :P


End file.
